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Chapter 8

The old shaman, her face etched with lines of wrinkles, wisdom and weariness, let out a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her years. "I can't believe, at this ripe age, with my meager pension, I must resort to such costly methods," she lamented. Her fingers trembled slightly as she extracted a small, worn pouch from her cloak.

She moved around the battlefield, her movements deliberate yet frail, as she scattered a fine, shimmering dust from the pouch over the rampaging werewolf. The dust, a concoction of 25 rare herbs and a very expensive material called "stardust," worked as a slow-acting sedative, designed to soothe the beast's wild frenzy.

"All my savings going to waste on this nonsense..." she muttered under her breath.

***

Hidden in the dark forest, a woman clad in dark, stealthy attire urgently whispered into her earpiece, her voice a blend of tension and resolve. "Sir, shadow troops have arrived at the battle location," she reported.

Her leader's voice crackled t
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